


I’ll Be Your Angel in a World Full of Demons

by AlyKat



Series: My Angel Amongst the Demons [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Comfort Fluff, Coming Out, Feels, High School AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Phil's mom knows and sees everything, Underage kisses and snuggling, schmoop…lots of schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 22:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyKat/pseuds/AlyKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint’s world goes pear shaped and there’s only one place he could think to escape to. When Phil finally gets an explanation from him, he becomes determined to prove Clint wrong and show him that he anyone would be proud to call him their son, no matter who or what he was.</p><p> </p><p>Warnings: Brief (very brief) mention of homophobia, if you squint. Derogatory use of the word ‘queer’.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I’ll Be Your Angel in a World Full of Demons

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. They are still Marvel's toys and I'm still just playing with them.

Phil sighed as he stared at his ceiling. How long had he been laying there, listening to the rain beat against his windows? There wasn’t any lightning. No thunder in the distance. Just rain. Cold, near frozen pellets beating against the glass pane. It was February, wasn’t it supposed to be snowing? Where did the freezing rain come from?

At least he was safe and warm in his room. His desk lamp casted his things in its pale white glow while grey, dreary light filtered in through the window. The warm scent of dinner cooking downstairs filled the whole house with its comforting smells; hot roast beef with string beans and baby red potatoes. Phil’s favorite.  

Soggy shoes and socks were discarded next to his window. A dark, wet pair of tattered jeans hung off his desk chair next to the furnace vent. On the seat, a soaked and threadbare sweatshirt was draped to dry. The dark maroon T-shirt was lying flat next to the vent while the original wearer of it all sniffled softly next to Phil.

Without giving it a second thought, the sixteen-year-old’s hand moved from where it rested on the other boy’s shoulder to card through wet hair instead. He still wasn’t sure what caused Clint to hike clear across town on a Sunday afternoon, in the middle of a freezing rain storm. Or why he’d insisted on climbing the iced-over limbs of a tree instead of knock on the front door like a normal person. Those were questions he wanted to ask, yet, he almost felt he already knew the answers to them. Something had gone wrong at Clint’s foster parent’s home (again), no doubt, that explained the ‘why’. The tree climbing…well, Phil had known for awhile that the fifteen-year-old preferred being off the ground and would hide up on top of things. That only partially explained why he picked the tree over the front door though.

Beside him, Clint shifted and pressed himself closer to Phil.

He’d let the other teen borrow a pair of sleeper pants and a hoodie to change into once he pulled the sodden boy through his window. He didn’t know how long Clint had been hiding on that tree limb, staring through his window, but Phil wasn’t about to risk him getting sick because of it. He cared too much for Clint to let anything like that happen to him.

Turning his head, Phil gently pressed his warm lips to his boyfriend’s forehead. Clint _was_ his boyfriend after all. In a rather…unofficial way, anyhow. They’d steal kisses when no one was looking, held hands under the lunch room table and leaned against each other during assemblies. Clint was often found more at Phil’s locker than his own. Which actually wasn’t all that strange, their lockers were only two down from each others. Still, nothing had ever been actually said or confirmed between them. They just sort of fell into each other one day (literally) and that was that. They both claimed they didn’t believe in love at first sight, that things like that just didn’t happen in the real world, and yet…Phil felt pretty confident that was exactly what had happened when they met.

“…Phil…” Whimpered Clint, his still cold nose pushing into the older teen’s neck as his arms tightened around Phil’s stomach.

“Shh…it’s okay, Clint. I’m right here,” Phil’s voice was soft and gentle in the quiet room. Clint shifted again. He’d had red, tearful eyes when he’d crawled into bed, but refused to tell Phil why. Eventually, he’d have to get Clint to talk and tell him what was wrong. He’d have to drive the teen back across town and leave him with his foster parents again.

With another soft whimper, the younger teen’s eyes slowly blinked open, lashes tickling against Phil’s neck lightly. He was quiet for a moment, hand still carding through soggy hair and down over Clint’s back. The poor guy had fallen asleep just shortly after crawling into bed with the other teenager. It took Clint a minute or so before his eyes finally stayed open and his head lifted from the shoulder it was pillowed on.

Their eyes met. Blue-grey stared lovingly into blue-green. Phil swore should those eyes should have just been listed as “rainbow” for as often as they changed colors. They were gorgeous though, and only he had been granted the privilege of getting to stare into them whenever he wanted.  He could see so many emotions hiding in those eyes. Feelings and fears that Clint didn’t want anyone to know about. A tightness tugged at his chest every time he saw the fear and uncertainty staring back at him. His poor darlin’. The teen had been through so much in his short fifteen years. So much more than any one person, let alone child, should have to deal with.

Phil raised his free hand to rest on Clint’s chilly cheek. His thumb stroked gently just under the teen’s eye, wiping away the tear stains and smoothing over the faint purple tint that was there. He knew Clint didn’t sleep much; the teen was a notorious insomniac. Most times he got away with it just fine and never had any visible signs that he wasn’t sleeping. Other times though, the heavy, dark bags under his eyes were so pronounced that Phil would have to hold him down while Pepper and Natasha put make up on him; just so no one reported him to the school nurse and authorities on suspected child abuse. They couldn’t risk the cops being called. He couldn’t risk Clint being taken away.

“Hey,” He murmured softly, palm still cupping the teen’s cheek gently. Clint sighed heavily, his head leaning into Phil’s hand while his eyes closed again. “How’re you feeling?”

Clint sniffled softly. “Like shit,” Blue-greens stared back up at him from under dark lashes. “But a little better.”

With a soft smile, Phil dipped his head to press a chaste kiss to the other’s mouth. The kisses they shared were never anything overly heated. Nothing that ever really led to them panting and clawing for purchase at the other’s clothes. Yet they were still enough for them both. Those soft, gentle kisses with the occasional tongue tracing lips, hands soft as they card through hair or slip over sides and necks, were just the right amount of intimacy for them. At least for the time being. Clint wasn’t ready for anything more than that, and if Phil were completely honest with himself (which, he tried to be), neither was he.

Pulling back from the kiss, both teens let their foreheads fall against the others, eyes closed and noses ever-so-slightly brushing in soft Eskimo kisses. Warm breath ghosted over their lips as they continued to lay in calm and comforting silence.

“Ready to tell me what’s wrong?”

Clint shook his head, turning his face away so that he could press it back into the hollow of the other boy’s shoulder.

“…no. I don’t wanna talk about it.” Was his muffled reply.

Phil nodded once. He wasn’t going to push the matter. He’d learned from experience that it was better to let the younger man move at his own speed when it came to matters of the heart. If Phillip were to push for info, Clint would snap and ultimately withdraw into himself to brood and glare at all who approached. It was much nicer having the mostly happy, smart-ass Clint Barton than have to watch his step and use caution with him. The teen would talk when he was ready.

His hand rubbed tenderly up and down Clint’s back, cheek nuzzling against the other boy’s hair.

“…Barney wants to leave. _Is_ going to leave.”

Phil’s blood ran cold at those words. Barney was Clint’s older brother and the only real family the teen had left in the world. While their relationship had always been a bit strained from what he’d heard, Clint still looked up to and admired the older boy greatly. Why, Phil didn’t know. Barney Barton was a couple years ahead of them and was in at least three of Phil’s classes. He…was not someone that should be looked up to for any reason. He wasn’t about to tell Clint that, though.

“He…is? Why? I mean, you…you’re not going to go with him, are you?”

Clint gulped.

“I want to…”

Somehow that quiet confession tore through the sixteen year old like a jagged knife. Fear and panic prickled at his chest as he pulled back enough to look at Clint. Fingers chinked under his chin, Phil tilted the teen’s head back until they were eye to eye.

“Clint. You…you can’t be serious? You’ve got a home here. The Johnson’s love you. My _mom_ loves you. I—“ His jaw snapped shut as he tried desperately to swallow his own tongue. If Clint noticed the near slip, he didn’t say anything. He instead laid there, eyes bright with worry, lower lip sucked between his teeth.

“I don’t _have_ a home, Phil. I haven’t for a really long time.”

Pain was obvious in his blue-grey eyes as a huff of air left his lungs. “You…that’s not _true_. Clint, you…I thought I…”

Clint’s blue-greens darted down and away, suddenly finding the dark navy blue of Phil’s pillow cases the most interesting thing in the world. He could see Clint’s jaw work, his Adam’s apple bob gently as he swallowed hard.

“…said I _want_ to go with. Didn’t say I _am_ goin’ with…” Clint’s voice was a muffled murmur against Phil’s neck. “Barney won’t let me. Said if I try to follow him, he’ll tell the Johnson’s about us.”

The sad, sunken eyes lifted to look back at Phil. “He’d tell them about you an’ me, Phil. And they’d send me away. Nobody…nobody wants a queer for a kid…”

In that moment, for the first time in his life, Phil’s vision turned blood red. He wanted nothing more than to grab his boyfriend’s shoulders and shake some sense into him. He wished he could track down the people who’d told Clint those hurtful and debilitating words. He shoved himself up so he was sitting, lanky body twisting until he was able to face Clint’s bewildered stare.

“Now you listen here, Clint Barton. You don’t believe that and you _know it_.” Phil’s voice was tight with pent up emotion and anger. Not anger towards Clint, but towards the liars who cut him down in life already.

“If you believed that, if you really, _truly_ believed that, then you wouldn’t be here right now. You wouldn’t let me kiss you, or hold your hand, or _be with you_ in any way like we are. You wouldn’t put your head on my shoulder during assemblies. You’d be fighting this tooth and nail and denying everything about us. You—“ Phil trailed off as the sound of shoes on the stairs drifted through the door.

“ _Phil? Dinner’s ready, honey.”_ The voice carried into the room, muffled from the stairwell and sound of rain still beating down outside.

Grey eyes bore into blue-green. There was a fire and passion in Phil’s eyes that told Clint their discussion was far from over.

“Be right down, Mom.” He answered back, never once looking away from the other teen. They stared at each other for a moment longer before Phillip finally tore his gaze away and awkwardly flipped himself off his bed. He’d sprung up three inches over the last couple of months and hadn’t quite gotten the hang of his longer, awkward limbs yet.

Straightening himself, he took a deep breath before looking back at Clint.

“You coming?”

Clint’s hair swished back and forth as he shook his head no.

“…fine. Just…still be here when I come back up, okay? I’ll try to bring some food up for you or something. Just don’t go back out in this weather. Alright?”

A sullen nod was the answer he received. With a heavy sigh, the teen turned and slipped from his room.

He half stumbled down the stairs, feet tripping him into the kitchen in the most ungraceful of entrances. The table was already set and the dishes of food spread out in the middle. His mother sat in her usual place, a bemused smile tugging at her lips. Her dark hair was pulled into a messy ponytail that fell in soft tendrils around her kind and ever smiling face. As Phil poured himself into his chair, she raised a questioning eyebrow at him. For as long as he could remember, it had always been just him and her.

“ _Just us against the world, Coconut. Think they’re ready for us?”_ She’d always told him when he was younger, a mischievous glint twinkling in her dark blue eyes. He loved his mom and he couldn’t praise her enough for everything she’d been through and still been able to come out on top.

“Everything okay?”

Phil glanced up from his plate and gave a slight nod. He picked his fork up off the table, the silver prongs stabbed viciously into the slice of roast beef in front of him. Across from him, his mother hummed thoughtfully.

“I’m pretty sure the roast is dead, ‘Nutter. You don’t have to stab it anymore.”

A faint pink crept up Phil’s neck and cheeks as he set his silverware back down. His eyes lifted back to his mother’s as he tilted his head questioningly.

“Mom? You love me, right?”

His mother balked at that. “Of course I do.”

“No matter what?”

“…what did you break?”

Phil couldn’t help but chuckle softly. A small weight lifted from his shoulders.

“Nothing. I just…” He paused to draw in a deep breath. “You’d still love me no matter what though, right?”

“Phil…you’re my son. You’re always going to be my little Coconut and I’m always going to love you.”

He nodded, his lips pressed together as his eyes looked back down at his plate. He wanted to just drop the subject and eat, but the knots tangled in his stomach weren’t allowing for that.

“You love Clint, too. Right?”

To her credit, his mother hadn’t yet asked what the third degree was about. Phil watched as she set her own silverware down and nudged her plate a little closer to the middle of the table. Her hands folding in front of her, she mimicked her son’s posture and leaned forward slightly.

“Absolutely.”

“And…hypothetically speaking, you’d be proud to call him your son too, right?”

Her eyebrow twitched slightly, the corner of her mouth struggling not to tug up into another bemused smile.

“Phil, we aren’t adopting Clint.”

“No. Mom that’s not what I--just…would you be proud to call him your son? No matter what or who he was.”

“I would be honored, pleased, and proud of _both_ my boys if he were. Yes.”

The weight that had settled on his chest upstairs crumbled around him. Lips pressed in a tight line between his teeth, his eyes flickered up through dark lashes. Though he was fighting to keep the smile off his face, it was clear and sparkling in his eyes.

He was already pushing himself away from the table and standing when he asked if he could be excused for a moment. The bemused smile was back on his mother’s face as she nodded. Her laughing eyes followed him out the door until he disappeared up the stairs again. Phil took the stairs two at a time, his longer legs finally deciding to cooperate with the rest of him as he skipped the last step and slid across the hall floor. His body collided with his bedroom door and he practically fell into the room as he shoved it open and looked inside.

Clint was right where he’d left him on the bed, curled up against Phil’s pillow and staring at the door with wide eyes. Without a word, the older, taller teen strolled to his bed and yanked his boyfriend to his feet. Clint tried to protest, to argue and lock his feet into place, but it was no use. His socked feet slid across the floor until he was falling over himself and into Phil.

“What the--…lemme go! _Phil_! Lemme go! I said I don’t…I’m not hun—lemme _go_!”

Phil ignored the objections. His face was set in grim determination as he hauled Clint down the stairs and into the kitchen. The pair was met with another thin, amused smile from Phil’s mother, her eyebrow arched slightly as she took the sight of them in. Clint hadn’t yet hit any major growth spurts so he looked to be practically swimming in her son’s clothes as he shifted awkwardly next to Phil. He stood a good four inches shorter than Phil, but he still had time to catch up.

“Mom. You said you’d love me no matter what. Right?”

His mother nodded silently.

“Good.” Without thinking, without giving Clint any time to react or even take a breath, Phil spun on his heels and crowded the shorter teen. Hands cupped the boy’s face as he dipped his head just enough to press their lips together in a less than innocent kiss. He heard Clint’s surprised whimper but thought nothing of it. His lips parted just enough to tug the other teen’s bottom lip into his mouth for a moment. Phil’s head was spinning and lungs burned as he stood in the middle of his kitchen officially outing them both to his mother.

It took a few more seconds before he was ready to pull back, and by then his brain had finally caught up with his heart. Their cheeks were flushed and the tips of Clint’s ears were the most adorable shade of pink he’d ever seen in his life. Phil honestly couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen the teen look so bewildered and embarrassed before. Getting lost in the other’s eyes, Phil gently nuzzled his nose against Clint’s before ducking his head slightly and turning back to face his mother. His arm slipped around Clint’s waist as he pulled the teen a bit closer to him.

“Mom,” He swallowed hard, his grip tightening slightly on the other teen’s hip, “I’m...I'm gay. Clint and I have…we’re…we’ve been together for the past six months.”

Beside him, Clint tensed and swallowed hard. If he believed that no one could want a gay child, then Phil was determined to prove him wrong. Blue eyes glanced between the pair from across the table. For a long, torturous moment, no one said anything. Phil swore he felt Clint get ready to make a break for the door when his mom finally spoke up again.

“I know. You hungry, Pineapple?” It was a simple, calm answer, almost as if she was doing nothing more than discussing the weather with the teens. A third plate had manifested itself onto the table next to Phil’s seat and was heaping with still warm food.

“You….h-…you…you _know_?” Clint’s eyes were practically bulging out of his skull as he stared his friend’s mom down in surprise.

“Mhmm. Please, you boys are still young. You’re not entirely stealth or subtle sometimes. Besides, I’m a mom. I see and know everything.” Her smile was small but mysteriously playful as she turned her attention back to her own plate. “Mm…which reminds me. Phil, you’d better throw his clothes in the dryer. And _you_ , my little Pineapple, had better call the Johnson’s and let them know where you are before they send the police out looking for you.”

Clint stood dumbfounded next to Phil. He looked between his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s mom, jaw slacked and eyes wide. Phil just simply smiled softly, head turned to the right to stare down at him. Wordlessly, he nudged the younger teen’s shoulder, nodding off in the direction of the phone.

Phil’s mom smiled down at her plate for a moment until Clint moved to slink past her. Hand extended out to him, her grin grew as the teen stepped sheepishly towards her. Her son had told her enough about Clint’s life that she knew the boy wasn’t at all familiar with being wanted and loved, or cared for. She had always tried to show him just as much affection as she gave Phil. Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him in for a tight hug.

“I’m not entirely sure what this was all about…but, I think I have a pretty good idea.” She said softly, holding Clint close and pressing a chaste, motherly kiss to the side of his head. “And I want you to know that Philly and I love you very, very much. And you are always welcome here…just…next time use the door, not his window, okay? I worry when you climb that tree.”

Phil watched as Clint’s ears burned crimson and he pulled away from his mom. His head ducked low, he gave a swift nod before skirting out of the room. There was a smile tugging hard at Phil’s lips as he looked back to his mom. There were very few guys who could say they had the best mom on earth, but Madeline Coulson was definitely the greatest woman and mother ever.

With her head tilted to the side slightly, Madeline lofted a brow at him.

“I’m sure there’s a very good reason for why you decided you needed to come out to me like that, ‘Nutter. And when you get back from taking Clint home later, you and I are going to have a talk and I’d really love to hear it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Now go throw his clothes in the dryer for him and get back in here and eat.”

~*~*~

Phil walked with Clint up the short driveway. Neither of them had said much the entire drive across town, but it hadn’t been an uncomfortable silence either. As they moved away from the car, Clint’s hand found its way into Phil’s and the older teen couldn’t help but smile at him sweetly. In the calm, chilly winter evening air, Clint looked absolutely breathtaking. Phil knew that plenty of people would tell them that they were too young to claim to be in love, but they were wrong. So very wrong.

The curtains in the living room window stirred before a woman’s face peeked through them. Phil ignored her. Mrs. Johnson wasn’t as bad as Clint made her out to be, but he still wasn’t going to pay her any attention. Not when he had Clint so close, the teen’s hand securely in his own. Barney may have told his younger brother that no one wanted a ‘queer’ for kid, but then, Barney didn’t know _everything_.

Stopping at the bottom of the steps, Phil turned to face Clint, well aware of the fact Mrs. Johnson was still spying from the window. He smiled softly at the teen, his hand reaching up to brush across Clint’s soft cheek. A faint flush formed where Phil’s fingers touched and blue-greens ducked slightly before looking back up from under dark lashes. They stood there, silently staring at each other for a good minute or two before Clint’s arms finally wrapped around Phil’s shoulders and he surged up for a goodnight kiss. There was a bit more force behind their kiss that time, as if the younger teen was trying to pour all his gratitude and appreciation into that single action, and when they finally parted, for the first time ever, they found themselves gasping for air. Pupils blown eyes and lips dark red.

Clint swallowed hard as he moved to bury his nose in Phil’s shoulder. Their arms were still held tight around each other and Phil found himself pressing his own nose into the shorter boy’s hair. He let his eyes fall shut and just stood there, basking in the warmth of Clint’s hug.

“You gonna be okay now?” He asked softly, murmuring into the teen’s hair.

He felt the small nod against his shoulder before Clint moved to bury his nose deeper in the warm, familiar scent and feel of his neck. There were still a lot of emotions that the other teen was keeping pent up inside, compartmentalizing and boxing away to deal with later. Whether or not he let Phil be there to help when he decided to deal with them though was entirely up to Clint. If he needed him though, he’d be there for him. Phil ran his hand soothingly up and down Clint’s back.

“Just remember, no matter what happens with Barney or the Johnson’s, you’ve still got me and my mom. We love you.” He swallowed hard against the butterflies in his stomach. “… _I_ love you.”

The warmth that had been pressed so close to his chest pulled back at that. Clint scanned and searched the taller teen’s face. He was looking for any sign of doubt, or pity, or even sympathy. There wasn’t any. Only truth, nervous hope, and calm understanding stared back at him.

Phil smiled softly, his head dipping back down for one last kiss.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. When you’re ready.” His voice was low and gentle, the same tone it took when trying to help his friend study for any of their English exams, or explain a complicated assignment to him. It wasn’t the forced understanding tone most of the teachers took with Clint when trying to explain something to him. That tone was just a blow to anyone’s ego and self-esteem. This was honest and kind, and if Phil said it was okay, then it really, truly, was.

Pulling back from him more, Phil let their hands fall and took half a step back. There was still a slight grin on his face while Clint continued to chew at his bottom lip in uncertainty. He nodded towards the front door.

“Go on and get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Clint nodded slowly, reluctant to go inside. Finally though, he turned towards the porch and trudged up the steps. Phil took a couple steps back; ready to head back to his car when the other’s voice stopped him.

“Phil?”

He turned. Clint stood with the front door wide open and Phil knew Mrs. Johnson was lurking just on the other side, waiting to hear what was going to be said next. There was a shy, lopsided, half-smile on the boy’s face as he leaned against the doorjamb.

“…tell Mom I love her, too.”

The slight smile already on his face grew and softened as Phil nodded.

“I will.”

Madeline had been trying for months to get Clint to call her something other than ‘Miss Coulson’ and kept insisting it was fine for him to call her ‘mom’ too, if he wanted. He’d always shake his head and blush instead. She would be thrilled to hear he’d finally called her that. Phil again moved to start back for his car. He only made it two steps before Clint spoke up once more.

“And…Ph-Phil?”

It was the stutter in the teen’s voice that had him stopping and turning around, features pinched in concern. Clint’s tongue darted out to lick over his lips and Phil absolutely did _not_ follow it as it went.

“…yeah?”

Clint swallowed hard as Phil took a few steps forward. He watched the teen’s fingers fidget in the borrowed hoodie, one he was pretty sure he’d never get back. It lifted and fell heavily as Clint let out a rush of air, words tumbling along with it.

“I-love-you-too-okay?”

It only took Phil three bounds to be at and up the steps before he was wrapping Clint back in his arms. The kiss was probably the most ungraceful and unromantic clash of lips and teeth in the history of forever, but it was everything that was perfect in that moment. If their life were a Hollywood Rom-Com, the camera would be turning around them while the sappy-yet-hopeful pop love song swelled into the ending credits. In that moment, nothing mattered as much to Phil as Clint.

The pull back was slow and reluctant, stalled by the few soft pecks that kept appearing while their hearts continued to soar. A quiet cough from the other side of the door finally brought them to their senses and had them stepping away from each other again. Dreamy smiles were mirrored on their faces as Phil carefully stepped backwards down the steps. His sneakers slipped off the last slick stair and he stumbled slightly but hardly noticed. He was too busy smiling and staring at Clint.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” The voice that filled his ears didn’t even sound like his own.

“Bright ‘n’ early,” God Clint’s smile was gorgeous.

Phil licked at his lips and gave a breathy laugh as he nodded.

“You got it. G‘night, Pineapple.”

Clint’s smile grew to blinding levels; his eyes shone a spectacular shade of bright blue.

“’Night, Coconut.”

His feet got tangled up in themselves and suddenly he felt as graceful as Goofy as he spun around to finally make his way back to his car. Phil didn’t know what would happen with Barney, or how the Johnson’s would react to finding out in such a fashion that their foster-son was gay, but at least he could take comfort in knowing that Clint was going to be okay. Even if everything went tits up and pear shaped, Clint would have a home to run to and people who loved him very much to protect him.

Clint would be okay, he’d make sure of it. No matter what.

And hey, at least it was finally starting to snow instead of rain.

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanon: Phil’s mom has unique nicknames for her son and his friend. She has always called Phil ‘Coconut’ because “when [he] was born, [his] little tuffs of hair stuck up all over and [he] just looked like a little coconut all bundled up in blankets.” The first time she met Clint, the boy had his hair dyed a unique shade of green and had it spiked in all different directions. He was prickly when he first arrived, but by the time he left that first night, he’d lowered his guard enough to reveal he was soft and sweet inside. This, coupled with his green-dyed-hair, was the reason for her deciding to call him ‘Pineapple’. When the boys are together and she wants to get their attention, she’ll address them collectively as simply, ‘Pina Colada’. 
> 
> She is also a single mother who had Phil out of wedlock when she was only 19.


End file.
